As I get older, however, there's a giant flaw in my logic staring me in the face every day: I must take responsibility for everything I do. Which isn't a problem usually. If I make a mistake I have no problem admitting it. And if I do something right, I simply write it off as part of my awesomeness. But last semester it really struck me how absolutely destructive this line of thinking could be.
Toward the end of last October, I made a decision that accidentally ended something that made me really happy. It wasn't my decision to end it but I guess something I said caused him to. I was sitting there consciously trying to decide if I should say what was on my mind. I decided he was right, that it would be better if I just said it. It was the stupidest decision I've made in a long time. But it was MY decision and I had to accept and own that. And that was absolutely the hardest part.
I began a two month long descent into darkness. I couldn't see the point anymore. I gave up on everything. I abandoned my faith in humanity.
As I was spiraling down into madness, as I was crying myself to sleep every night and barely able to keep it together during the day, I began to worry that someone had finally broken me. After going through almost the exact same situation of deception and leading me on with at least six guys before him, I began convincing myself that this ass of a man finally was the one to do it. He finally ruined me.
I started genuinely believing I would be alone forever. I was convinced that there was something wrong with me. So many different men have all done the same thing to me, that it must be something about me that makes them drawn to me and then back off quite abruptly. But no one would tell me what it was. No one would tell me so I could fix it and not face a life of total solitude. I hate being alone. It was driving me insane.
I was terrified that I would be like that for a long time. I was slowly convincing myself I would be alone forever. That I should never say what was on my mind again. I can't even convey the mental abuse I put myself through.
But something completely unexpected happened. I became reckless. Something that I have never really been in my life. It made me just not care anymore. I put myself out there. I'm the girl to be used. That's how everyone has treated me up until now so why not just embrace that. Because it's not going to change. I just don't care anymore. I'm the one guys use while they're looking for the one they actually want to be with.
The moral of the story kids? Your beliefs will someday completely destroy and damn near kill you.
Syd
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